


Shifting in My Skin

by brilligspoons



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Families of Choice, Family, Fluff, Gen, Other, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-10 22:46:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brilligspoons/pseuds/brilligspoons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of ficlets written for a prompt meme on tumblr.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p><i>He looks closer and finds tear tracks across her cheeks.</i> Someone made her very angry today, <i>he thinks.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fight Me

Gyda is in the woods behind the house when Ragnar returns from the Thingstead. She has her wooden sword in her left hand and her shield on her right arm, and she swings the weapon in wide, sweeping arcs, landing each hit with a solid _crack_ against the trunk of her tree-enemy. Ragnar stops to observe her for a while, notices her sloppy footwork and complete lack of form - both unusual, considering Lagertha’s insistence on perfection and practice. He looks closer and finds tear tracks across her cheeks. _Someone made her very angry today_ , he thinks.

Most likely Bjorn, he knows. While Gyda is usually content to follow in her brother’s footsteps, they’ve been at odds with each other of late. Lagertha seems content to let them be, to see how it plays out between them, but Ragnar wonders if an intervention is now necessary. He drops his pack on the forest floor and finds a stick that will serve as a sword, then calls out to Gyda. She whips around, frantically wiping at her face with the heel of her hand.

“You’re home,” she says, managing the ghost of a smile. “I’m glad.”

“As am I,” Ragnar says. He nods to the tree she’d been using as a sparring partner. “Your friend here is probably glad to see me as well. Shall we give him a rest? I will gladly take his place for a while.”

Gyda frowns. “Mother doesn’t like it when you fight me. She says you’ll teach me the wrong way.”

Ragnar laughs as he readies himself for the fight. “Then you shall have to try to teach me the right ways. Attack me, little shieldmaiden.”

To his surprise, Gyda doesn’t hesitate to do so.


	2. Unbind Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (la la la, we’re going to pretend like the last two or three episodes didn’t happen in the interest of happy times, etc.
> 
> Also: I have very little idea of how slaves were treated in Norse culture beyond _probably shitty_ , so let’s suspend disbelief for a bit.)

Athelstan understands that there is a certain amount of pageantry required when Ragnar and Lagertha entertain visiting earls and other nobles, but he does not, in anyway, appreciate being the focus of said pageantry. The most recent of these guests, a man who would be one of Ragnar’s most powerful allies if courted in all the right ways, had found the sight of a captive English priest bound and brought low to his tastes. He might have demanded a more humiliating display, Athelstan reasons with himself, but he still feels an invisible weight lifting from his shoulders when the hall empties and he’s left alone with Ragnar and Lagertha.

“Ragnar, he’s gone,” Athelstan says. “Could you release me from these ropes now?”

“I could,” agrees Ragnar with a smile, all congeniality and mirth, but he remains sitting in his chair on the dais. Next to him, Lagertha’s expression is a perfect match to Ragnar’s, if a little more…heated. Athelstan sighs and supposes he should just be grateful Bjorn and Gyda were sent to bed already. He could not endure all the mocking Bjorn would rain down on him, or Gyda’s giggling laughter.

“Lagertha?” Athelstan fixes her with a pleading look.

“I haven’t heard you say ‘please’ yet, priest,” she says. Her smile grows wider, and Athelstan swallows against the sudden knot in his throat.


	3. Offer Me

There are new laces in his boots to replace the old, fraying ones when Ragnar wakes up one morning. He scoops Lagertha up into his arms and spins her around the room before pressing kisses and _thank yous_ across her face, laughing when she shoves at his chest. When he sets her down again, she frowns at him.

“The food this morning isn’t that exciting,” she says. “It’s the same as always.”

“You put new laces in my boots,” says Ragnar. “Am I not allowed to thank my wife when she does nice things for me?”

Lagertha snorts and turns back to the fire. “The thing I did for you in bed last night was nice. I told you to replace those laces days ago, but did you do as I asked?”

“Alright, alright. If you didn’t, then who?”

She shrugs and says, “Maybe a spirit took pity on you.”

“ _Maybe a spirit took pity,_ ” Ragnar mocks. “Fine. They are fixed, that’s all that matters.”

***

Lagertha’s fishing spear breaks the next time she and Gyda go to the river, and she stalks back to the house, curses falling like water from her lips. Ragnar exchange looks with Athelstan and Gyda, who giggles and runs away before Lagertha can turn on her. He takes the broken pieces from her hands and swats her gently on the arm.

“Did I not tell you to make a new one last season?” he asks. He sees a smile spread across Athelstan’s face before he covers it with a hand.

Lagertha scowls. “Make me a new one, or go fishing yourself.”

In the morning, there’s a new spear waiting for her by the fire - clumsily made, perhaps, but sturdy.

“Not your best,” Lagertha mutters under her breath, poking at Ragnar’s side with the pronged end.

“Not my anything,” he says. He pretends to think for a moment. “Maybe a spirit took pity on you.” He yelps and jumps away as she prods him a little harder.

***

Other things start appearing around the house when no one’s looking. Little things, like new wooden spoons and mended fishing nets, the ones Lagertha and Ragnar set aside to fix and forgot about as more pressing issues emerged day to day. Gyda and Bjorn shrug when questioned, claim not to know who or what is behind this. It’s not as if there are tricks being played, though, so they laugh and offer thanks to Frigg for blessing their home.

Lagertha wakes early one morning and finds Athelstan by the fireside, carving a sword handle in the likeness of the one Bjorn had broken the previous afternoon during practice with Ragnar.

“It was you who mended all those things,” she says. Athelstan jumps at the sound of her voice and drops his knife and the wood. He looks up at her, meeting her eyes for just a moment before settling his gaze on the floor by her feet.

“Bjorn seemed upset,” Athelstan says. “When the sword broke, I mean. I noticed he took particular care of it before then. I wanted to see him happy again.”

Lagertha says nothing for a long time. There’s a warmth in her chest that’s almost uncomfortable, and it flares hotter when Athelstan chances another look up at her face. She sighs and gestures at the knife and wood on the floor. “The hilt was not as fancy as that,” she says, “but I know he will think this one very fine. He’ll be awake soon, so you better hurry.”

Athelstan nods and takes up his task again. Lagertha allows herself a smile when he isn’t looking and quietly beckons for Ragnar to join her outside when he emerges from the other side of the house.


End file.
